


The Morning After

by icebucky



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, M/M, sassy sammy, the morning after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 04:22:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2053455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icebucky/pseuds/icebucky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester hates awkward moments, and without a doubt, he believes that the most awkward out of all awkward is the morning after.</p>
<p>It's even more awkward when you don't really remember the night before, and when the person in your bed is your best friend.</p>
<p>Damn it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Morning After

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Slythstiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slythstiel/gifts).



> This isn't my best. I don't know. Okay. Just bear with me.
> 
> Destiel morning after in the bunker heh

Dean Winchester has experienced many awkward situations. The moment when the cop realizes you're not actually a fed, when the real estate agent thinks you're gay for your brother, or that classic drop in your stomach when reality and porn all kind of blur together. But Dean thinks that there is no situation that could possibly be more awkward than the morning after.

To be honest, it kind of terrifies him. He's not the kind of guy who disappears before the girl wakes up; he likes to think that he's a better person than that. Even though he can't have anything in his life other than one night stands (he knows from experience that it doesn’t work out, ever), Dean tries his best to be something other than a regret. He doesn’t want to be a bitter memory or an embarrassing flashback; he tries to be better than that.

Nevertheless, the morning after has always been a source of terror for him, with the empty promises and the avoidance of eye contact and the backing out of the door with a sheepish smile on his face. Dean hates the morning after, and he doesn’t see why now would be any different.

Wait.

_Now_? 

Let's just be honest here. Dean hasn’t gotten laid for a while. He's sick of the one night stands and empty sex, so he hasn’t made any sort of effort in a long time, except for that one thing with the porn star. But _now_? Something's happening _now_?

Dean's subconscious must be panicking or something, because his eyelashes flutter and try to bat away the haze of sleep, and he shakes his head slightly on his pillow in an attempt to wake himself up. The sunlight is streaming in from the window to land directly on his face, and he doesn’t remember much about what happened the night before, he can only tell that he is in the bunker and there is a person whose arms are wrapped tightly around his torso and whose hair is tickling his cheekbones.

Well, it looks like he broke the _no girls in the bunker_ rule. Damn, Sammy's gonna be pissed.

Dean blinks hard, trying to see clearly, and stares up at the ceiling. He's got a pounding headache, which means that whoever this girl is, they were probably dangerously drunk the night before, which is why he lost his common sense and didn’t just get a motel room. He stretches his arms out to the side, automatically moving slowly so he doesn’t wake the sleeper, and pushes himself up a little in his bed. Dean looks down at the person wrapped around him and does a double take so large it looks theatrical.

It's Cas.

Holy shit, it's Cas.

Dean's heart is pounding so loudly that he can hear it rushing in his ears, feel it thrumming through his entire body and he's terrified, Cas is his best friend, and no, no, no, this cannot be happening, Dean's _straight_ , he would never, this isn't what he signed up for, and no, he can't sleep with Cas, this will ruin their entire friendship, and what is Sammy gonna say and no, no, no, this can't be happening, though apparently it already happened, which makes it that much worse.

"Shit," he hisses under his breath, sitting up more and gently scooting away from Cas, who is still asleep. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, _shit_."

So yeah, Dean was right when he made the mental assumption that the morning after was the worst experience out of the top most awkward.

Dean tries to calm himself, tries to stare at the ceiling and forget about this, what just happened, but he can't help himself, he keeps glancing over at Cas and he wants to choke himself but there's a little bubble of tenderness and warmth in his chest when he sees the way the fluffy haired angel hugs the pillow and how he sleeps on his stomach and how, _holy shit_ , Dean didn’t know that Cas had a tattoo on his back, that's kinda hot -

He jumps suddenly as the alarm on his bedside table goes off, and he has to lean across Cas to turn it off. Just as he's pressing the button, Cas moves on the bed and Dean can tell he's awake and he stiffens, freezes, his finger still pressing down the alarm clock and he's never been so scared to talk to anyone, but he's Dean Winchester, he can handle this. It isn't the first time he's slept with someone and not remembered it, so this should be old hat, right?

"Dean," he hears Cas say from somewhere around his ribcage. "Dean, are you going to move?"

"Oh, yeah, right, sorry," Dean stutters. He sits back down on the other side of the bed as quickly as possible and tries not to stare, but Cas reaches up and tugs a hand through his dark hair as he stretches and god, that is the sexiest sex hair that Dean has ever seen and no, no he can't think about his best friend like this.

Cas sits up and Dean can feel him looking at him, staring unblinkingly with those impenetrable blue eyes and Dean feels vulnerable, exposed, like he's a kid again, like he's a teenager on his first date. Of course he feels like that, this is _Cas_ , a small voice in the back of his head whispers, poking at the rest of his brain to get a grip on himself and quit screwing around. Everything with Cas was a new experience, Dean shouldn’t be surprised that he is this nervous.

He takes a deep breath. "Cas, I, uh," Dean drops his head in his hands and rubs his eyes. God, this headache is killer. "Cas, um, I don’t, I don’t really remember what happened, can you…?"

There's silence from the other side of the bed, and Dean chances a look at the angel.

A small smile sneaks onto Cas' face and he places a hand on Dean's shoulder, on the spot, the same spot, you _know_   which spot he's talking about, and he has that expression on his face that he seems to reserve only for Dean, because sure, they share a _more profound bond_ but it's not like Dean actually put that much thought into what that meant when Cas said it three years ago or ever imagined that it would end up like this.

"Dean," Cas says seriously, and Dean's attention is fully captured. "In the future, I'm going to have to ask you to refrain from taking my father's name in vain when we do the frick frack."

Dean blinks, hard, staring at Castiel. "The…uh, the frick frack?"

Cas grins, almost suggestively, and Dean's surprised that he feels the butterflies of something other than apprehension in his stomach. "Frick frack," the angel replies, and Dean's stomach flips.

*** 

It's about nine in the morning, and Sam is sitting at the table in the bunker's library, sipping his coffee and scanning the latest local obits for any unusual activity. And speaking of unusual activity, Sam chooses to ignore the loud and disturbing noises that definitely were not coming from Dean's room last night (or this morning, for that matter), but that doesn’t stop him from breaking into a grin as he hears footsteps coming down the stairs.

He bites his lip and tries not to immediately look up, but the grin is so wide he feels like his face is going to split. Sam quickly takes a sip of his coffee, wincing as it burns his tongue.

"Heya, Sammy," he hears Dean's voice say from somewhere to his left, perhaps a bit hoarser than usual.

"Hey -" Sam coughs and clears his throat slightly to mask the laugh that he's shoved back into his stomach. "Hey Dean."

A carefully calculated five minutes later, when Dean has poured himself a cup of coffee and has settled into the chair opposite Sam, they hear another set of footsteps and Sam does a double take when he sees Cas enter the room. He nearly chokes, but manages a "Morning, Cas."

Interestingly enough, Dean has completely dropped his gaze and the little Sam can see of tops of his cheeks over his coffee mug is tinged with red.

Sam snorts with suppressed laughter and looks up at Cas, who is wearing one of Dean's faded AC/DC shirts and a pair of (are those _Sam's_? No wonder they're so big on him) sweatpants. His hair looks like he just walked through a hurricane and as he reaches across the table to steal the coffee pot from Dean, the collar of the shirt shifts a little and Sam can see the huge ass and frankly a little disturbing hickey on his collarbone.

Sam clears his throat. "So, uh…there were some freaky noises going on last night, guys. You think the bunker's haunted?"

The reaction is exactly what he's looking for. Dean sputters on his coffee so hard that he chokes, slapping a hand on his chest so that he can stop the spasms. Castiel's eyes widen and he stares at Sam, almost dropping the coffee pot, and when Sam grins and raises his eyebrows, Cas directs his huge blue eyes back to Dean.

Dean stops hacking up a lung long enough to stare menacingly at his brother. " _What_?" he chokes, slamming his hand on the table. Sam's cup rattles.

"Dude, I just said there's some weird shit going on in the bunker. Maybe we should all stay up tonight, check it out." He grins as his brother and his best friend exchange a look and have what seems to be one of their telepathic conversations, where they just stare at each other for an amount of time that they don't see as a weird length but makes everyone else uncomfortable. Eventually, Dean looks back at Sam, who is still trying not to laugh.

"You know, don’t you?" Dean says, looking seriously at his brother.

Sam just looks up at Dean, his hazel eyes wide and innocent. "Know what?"

"Uh…" Dean looks down, scratches his hair, clears his throat. "That, uh, last night, Cas…"

Sam flicks his gaze to Cas, trying not to laugh, and the angel says bluntly, "We had sex."

Dean drops his head into his hands and tugs at his hair, visibly mortified, while Cas puts a hand on his shoulder and says something too low for Sam to hear. Ordinarily, it'd be a source of endless entertainment for Sam to have dirt on his brother, because something that makes Dean _this_ embarrassed is something worth digging into. But this time, Sam feels nothing but relief from the fact that his brother has finally been able to get close to someone he loves and feel the standard embarrassment other than the staggering grief that seems to run in Winchester romances. Because it's sweet, really, how Dean is with Cas, and Sam can see that they're different from anything that either of them have ever had before, and there's not any sum of money that he could be paid that would ever make him change any of that.

So Sam just grins and sips his coffee and when Dean looks up again, he just says, "Took you long enough, Dean. I mean, if I were you, that would have happened _years_ ago."

The look on Dean's face as Sam gets up to put his cup in the kitchen sink is one of incredulity and relief and a hint of confusion, and Sam as looks over his shoulder one last time as he closes the door, he sees Dean move his chair back a little and Cas just settling himself down on his brother's lap and for a moment, despite all of the danger and fear and insanity that is their lives, Sam feels like this is home, this is family, and this, even though they'll live in fear of this pure and innocent relationship being tarnished and torn by the world that they fight in, this, Dean and Cas, out of all the evils they face and all of the people that need protecting, this is what is the most worth fighting for.


End file.
